


Script

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:56:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is not on the script.





	

It’s been one year. Josh hasn’t seen him in one year. He’s not forgotten, though. Josh couldn’t forget him if he tried. Josh is anxious. He’s waiting, anticipating,  _ giddy _ to see Tyler. To talk to Tyler. To . . .  _ touch _ Tyler? No, Josh can’t touch Tyler. Tyler doesn’t  _ do _ touching. Not anymore.

Before going into the conversation, Josh knows. He knows what to expect, alright? He knows what he’s going to hear. He’s going to hear the details of things he already knows, he’s going to hear the good and the bad and whatever else happens in Tyler’s head and Tyler’s life because that’s what he has planned. That’s what on the script.

They’re in a diner. It’s more formal than one of their houses, but not as formal as a real restaurant. But more formal than a house is too formal for Josh. But Tyler insists, and Josh doesn’t question. The air in the diner is stagnant and warm, a welcomed relief from the insulting cold of the morning. This morning is particularly bitter, and Josh can’t help but pair the conditions with the situation. Josh is trying to focus. He’s trying so hard to focus on what Tyler is saying across from him but things are  _ happening _ around him. That kid just spilled it’s drink all over the table.  _ Should he go help clean up? _ Of course not. That woman is giving that underpaid waitress a hard time.  _ Should he step in? _ Of course not. So Josh is distracted, and he knows it. But there’s a script today, and Josh needs to follow it. Or at least hear someone read it out to him. He corrects his train of thought, shifting his attention back onto Tyler who, surprisingly, is not speaking. He gives Josh a strange look, but it’s over before it happens.

Across from Josh, Tyler is speaking now. He’s saying things to Josh, things that are maybe better left unsaid. Food untouched, throat dry, the ink of Tyler’s words, black and toxic, bleed into Josh’s mind and stay there. This is not pen ink, this is tattoo ink. And unless Josh is willing to pay good money to get the ink removed or covered up it’s staying there. As much as he wishes it wasn’t.

Josh is taking special notice of Tyler. He’s so  _ awkward _ . Why? They’re never awkward around each other! They’re best friends, they’re something more, and they’re  _ not _ awkward. Tyler speaks to lowly, so contrite. He feels dirty, and ashamed, Josh can tell. But Josh can’t tell why. Tyler’s off-script speech is unnerving. Where is this coming from? The last time Josh had seen Tyler, Josh was always the one to tell Tyler to quiet down, stop making dirty jokes, stop laughing so loud people are staring. Tyler had been pure light, harboring all the same risk and fun he had when he was just a kid. He was the ultimate friend, the kind people are lucky to have. The kind  _ Josh _ was so lucky to have. 

This time, however, Tyler is cold. Tyler is withdrawn, merely a shell of himself. His hair is no longer lively and lovely, it looks so greasy and brittle that it could snap should Josh reach out and run his fingers through it. He wouldn’t do that, though. He wouldn’t touch Tyler. Because Tyler doesn’t  _ do _ touching. Not anymore. Tyler’s eyes are so empty, purple veins blazon his eyelids like a web. His skin is so pale, like he hasn’t step foot outside in a month. And maybe he hasn’t. Josh doesn’t know. Josh doesn’t know anything, really, because all he knows is the script. And in the script, Tyler is beautiful, and Tyler is so present. But he’s not here anymore.  _ Where did he go? _

Physically, Josh knows. He knows where Tyler had been. He’d gone on a harmless retreat, in search of something grounded. He’d wanted, no,  _ needed _ to take a month or two away from everything. It appeared, at the time, that Tyler needed to take a break from his family, his life. But upon closer inspection, Josh knows the one thing Tyler  _ really _ had needed an escape from was trapped in his skull. And no retreat could offer that.

So, about a year ago, the script had said that Tyler would be gone for a month, two, tops. But that month or two turned into five or six turned into nine or ten and suddenly, it’d been a year and Tyler hadn’t returned. His parents hadn’t cared. Why would they? They’re six feet under. The script had also said that Tyler would be working with a group of people his age, all in his same situation.  _ What’s his situation? _ Tyler was going to better himself, better others. He’d thought he could fix himself that way. He’d thought everything would get better. And for a moment, it did. For the first month, everything had gone according to plan. But the other ten or eleven months had gone differently, and Josh can remember so vividly the hurt and concern he’d felt when his messages had gone unanswered and he’d been surrounded by people speaking without script. It’d been all wrong.

So Josh knows, physically, where Tyler had gone, at least for part of the time. But Josh is ill-prepared for Tyler’s explanation of where he had gone mentally.

“So, you know that guy? From the retreat.” Josh makes an affirmative sound. This is true. Josh knows. How could he not? He ignores the jealousy that flames up in his chest every time Tyler mentions him. Tyler had met a boy on the retreat in whom he had confided, and they’d found a mutual liking. Tyler had told Josh all about him during that first month, that first month when Josh’s messages had actually been answered and the script hadn’t been torn to shreds. So yes, Josh knows that guy. Josh had never shown his concerns for the startling age gap between the boy and Tyler.

The conversation drags on, and Tyler is not careful to think about how Josh feels about the guy. Why would he be? He doesn’t know. Josh can tell that Tyler is avoiding telling him something. The fluffiness of Tyler’s words are unwonted, merely a build-up to something else. Something  _ more _ , perhaps. Not wanting to put strain on him, Josh is patient.

Eventually: “He raped me, Josh.”

This is  _ not _ on the script.

Food untouched, throat dry, Josh’s head lifts. Tyler’s is down. The conversation proceeds this way, shaken cores and hushed voices scrambling to find purchase, to cling onto something that makes  _ sense.  _ The details blur for the both of them. And now, Tyler is telling Josh these things that are maybe better left unsaid. The things that let Josh know that Tyler had been in therapy, Tyler had been  _ trying _ . And, oh, God, why is Tyler apologizing? Tyler claims to have told him no. Tyler claims his regret for not telling Josh sooner, and Josh tells him that’s all nonsense. It’s not Tyler’s fault, but he thinks it is, and Josh’s head spins. Josh is hurt, but not because of what Tyler tells him, not because Tyler had met that boy, and not because Tyler hadn’t answered his messages in months. Josh is hurt because Tyler is speaking in a way that suggests that Josh would be,  _ could _ be mad at him. 

“It’s fine. Seriously, it’s . . . all getting better. The hesitation makes Josh slightly uneasy, but it’s not as if he has any food in his stomach that could threaten to come back up. His food it still untouched.

As soon as Josh’s next words slip past his mouth, he regrets them. He wishes he had said something more supportive, more eloquent. But his shock is restricting him, iron fists clutching at his vocal cords with a vice-like grip, and at the time, “I’m glad” has to suffice.

There are a million and one things Josh could have anticipated in this world, but there are certain things that would catch him, catch  _ anyone _ off guard. There had been no way for Josh to anticipate breaking his arm in the fifth grade and there had been no way for him to anticipate Tyler’s parents getting in a car crash. But there had also been no way for him to anticipate his best friend telling him he had been taken advantage of.

And now Josh is sitting, so senselessly dumbfounded in this rubbery diner while Tyler has excused himself, and he knows the script is a sophistry. He knows life is not a movie, there is no script, and he is certainly not the writer.


End file.
